


robbers

by whizzerdbrown



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, boyf riends — Freeform, eventually, i'll add as we go, idk what else???, oh it gets violent, primarily boyf riends, there'll be blood and stuff so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 04:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12124365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whizzerdbrown/pseuds/whizzerdbrown
Summary: {loosely based off of the song 'robbers' by the 1975.}Jeremiah Heere was perfect, and so were the people he hung out with. But that was tiring.Michael Mell, on the other hand...—or, alternatively; jeremy is a popular pretty jewish boy who wants to be a bad boy™





	robbers

Jeremiah Heere was perfect, and so were the people that he hung out with. They were the Golden Group, that's what the school called them, because they all got good grades, all of the teachers loved them, and because they seemed to have hearts of gold. They never did anything wrong, never got into trouble. Everything they did was right, and done with such perfectionism that the rest of the school was in awe. Everyone loved the Golden Group. 

Except... it was tiring. Jeremy didn't _want_ to be perfect. He didn't want to be looked up to, he didn't want all of the teachers to love him no matter what he did. But there was no way to fix that, because he had grown up with the Golden Group and because they expected him to stay with them. 

Jeremy wanted to act out. Not anything terrible, of course, just... Well, really, he didn't know. He's always been a picture perfect child, so, of course, he didn't know _how_ to act out. He didn't want to do anything too extreme that it would make everyone hate him, but he didn't want to do something so little that nobody would even notice. Did that sound stupid? It probably sounded stupid. A lot of his thoughts recently were stupid–

"Jerry? Are you listening?"

He was pulled from his thoughts by the question, his attention drawn to Chloe, sat across from him. 

Chloe Valentine was the most popular girl in the school. Everyone wanted to be friends with her, and everyone was jealous of those who were. 

"Sorry," Jeremy said, smiling sheepishly, "I was daydreaming."

Chloe sighed. " _Boys."_

Brooke, at Chloe's side, giggled. 

Jeremy liked her. Brooke Lohst. Well, not romantically. She was a friend, and a good one. Jeremy honestly thought that Brooke deserved the 'most popular girl' title, because she was nearly as popular as Chloe, yet she was even nicer. Brooke was the type of person that you could trust anything with. She never judged anyone, no matter what, and always tried her hardest to help with anything. She was a sweetheart. 

And the last member of the Golden Group was Christine Canigula, Jeremy's best friend since, practically, birth. Jeremy and Christine's parents had been friends in high school, and the two of them had play dates since they were very young. She was a sweetheart, too. Possibly even more so than Brooke. She was so easily excited, too, and was always bubbly and optimistic. 

Chloe was talking again and, Jeremy realized, he was lost in his head again. Thinking. Thoughts are a weird thing, when you think about it. You're always thinking, constantly, but you're not really thinking about thinking until you realize that it's always consistent, and then you can't stop thinking about thinking. He's tried to stop thinking before, and it always ended up in a headache. He'd think so hard about stopping his thinking, that he'd just think even more, and – he was making his head hurt again. 

He glanced off to the side, watching as other students passed their lunch table with trays. And then, as a specific trio passed him, a lightbulb went off in Jeremy's mind. 

The Bad Boy Gang. Well, that's what the school called them. Jeremy wasn't really sure how _bad_ they were, or if they even really were a gang – and there were only three of them. But everyone claimed that the three of them were bad news, and that people like the Golden Group didn't need to be around them. Most people avoided the gang, just because of the bad connotations and rumors. 

The gang consisted of Jacob Dillinger, Richard Goranski, and Michael Mell. Jeremy didn't know any of them personally, but he knew that they seemed cool. Tattoos, dark clothes, cigarettes. Not exactly what Jeremy wanted to be, but who he'd like to hang out with. _They_ could be Jeremy's way of acting out. He could just hang out with them from time to time. 

"Hey, uh-" Jeremy spoke, turning his gaze back to the girls at his table. "I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be back."

The girls didn't have a chance to answer before Jeremy was up, hurrying after the trio. It didn't take him long to catch up. 

Rich and Jake, the shortest and the tallest members of the gang, were further ahead. Michael was sort of on his own, in his own world as well. He had headphones on, and Jeremy almost felt bad about interrupting, but he went through with it anyway. 

"Hey!" Jeremy greeted with a bright smile, falling into step right next to the other boy. 

Michael slowly removed his headphones with one hand, giving Jeremy a double-take. Probably surprised that someone from the Golden Group was talking to him. "Hi?"

"I want to hang out with your gang. Could I?"

Silence took over for a moment. Jeremy still smiled, cheerful, optimistic. 

"It's not a gang," Michael answered simply, starting to slip his headphones back on. 

Jeremy reached out and touched the other boy's wrist, pausing his action. "Sorry. Group. I want to hang out with you and your friends-"

A shake of the head. "Nope. Three members now, three members forever. Sorry, Heere."

And the headphones were back on, and Michael picked up his speed to walk away. 

—

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.   
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. 

Michael could not _believe_ what just happened. Jeremy Heere, the alpha male or whatever of the good kids squad, just asked to hang out with the group of delinquents? 

Fuck. 

Of course Michael turned him down because– Because, of course! Because Michael, stupid Michael Mell, had no people skills outside of Rich and Jake, and because he would make a complete fool of himself if Jeremy _did_ end up hanging out with them. 

The boy reached into his pocket, turning up the music through his headphones. If it hadn't been blasting before, it definitely was, now. 

If anything, really, Michael was doing Jeremy a favor. Jeremy was a good kid, loved by the entire population of New Jersey. Did he not understand what would happen to his status if he was caught with a group of delinquents like them? God, Jeremy would be ruined. His pedestal broken down and crumbled into a million little pieces. Everyone would ignore him. Poor dude. 

Michael couldn't help but to spare a brief glance back. Jeremy wasn't there anymore and, at first, it seemed to be a good thing. Until Michael began to fully wonder, why did Jeremy want to hang out with them? 

Anyone with that high of a status, anyone allowed to wear the signature pastel pink polo of the dubbed "Golden Group," should have anything better to do than hang out with these three. It wasn't like they did anything all that cool, anyway. 

Okay, so, maybe the motorcycles were cool. And maybe the smoking was cool. And the drinking, and the tattoos, and the random acts of rebellion. But, that strays away from the point. The point is that Jeremy, _the_ Jeremiah Heere of the Golden Group, should most definitely have something more fun and more approvable to do than getting drunk and high off his mind with Michael Mell, Jake Dillinger, and Rich Goranski. 

Speaking of the other two, they were still walking ahead, still oblivious. Michael didn't know what they were talking about, he couldn't hear over his music, but he assumed that it wasn't anything important. It usually wasn't, with their group. He left his headphones on until they got to their signature lunch table, in the far back corner. 

"Guys," Michael then interrupted. All eyes were on him. "Jeremy Heere just asked to hang out with us."

"Shit, dude," Rich grinned. His lisp was prominent. 

Then Jake added his own input, "No way! What'd you say?" 

"No."

"No!?"

Michael shrugged, picking at his sushi. He knew that Rich's obviously-not-approving exclaim had meant for him to go on and explain why, but he didn't bother. It was stupid and, overall, there was no way in hell that Michael was willing to say that he was nervous to mess up in front of some perfect Jewish boy. 

"Why not?" Jake ended up questioning. "It could've been cool. What if he's not at perfect as he seems to be?"

Rich snickered, "He can't be, if he's wanting to hang with _us._ "

That was the thing about Rich. Rich was proud of their bad-boy, delinquent, possible-school-shooter vibe. He loved it, obviously. He loved that he could strike fear into other students by aiming finger guns at them, he loved that most of the teachers either didn't like them or were scared to show they didn't like them. He took it to the extreme. 

"He called us a gang, so.." Michael answered, lamely. 

"We aren't a gang."

"I know."

Rich didn't have anything to say. He'd be fine with it being a gang, Michael knew. 

"But," Jake added, "that's no reason to push him away. He could turn out to be cool, or something."

"He's a golden boy, he can't be that cool."

And then Jake and Rich were in their own discussion, yet again. Talking about how Jeremy could be more than just a perfect Jewish boy, more than a golden boy, more than a face straight out of a magazine – about how he could be more than just what he's been cut and pasted to become. About how he could be _human._

It definitely opened Michael's eyes, and he was going to ask Jeremy to hang out after school that day.


End file.
